Chicago...My Kind of Clown.

Its a funny city Chicago is, we never know what kind of hilarity we are going to find on delivery day. For example I find this piglet butt hysterical

I don't know why. Maybe its just the angle, or the voice of Miss Piggy in my head . "Hello ?  Who took my skirt ? Is this any way to treat a lady ? Someone get my agent on the phone NOW!" After all, Keith is working so hard to get down those steps I should be respectful and not giggling behind his back. I can't seem to help it. Tense times does that to me. In Mass my sister and I would get to giggling and we would have to pinch each other to gain some control. Laughing in the middle of the Our Father ? Not good.

Then dad would catch us out of the corner of his eye and he would whack us (not so hard) to get us to stop. But that made us giggle more which made mom really mad and then she would be pinching us to get us to stop and her pinch was no laughing matter. Oh the cycle of abuse. I miss them everyday.

Following the drop off of two roasters and one large whole Red Wattle hog to Old Town Social,
http://www.oldtownsocial.com/   we headed north to In Fine Spirits.

There we delivered about 35 pounds of very fresh boneless pork shoulder. This Italian restaurant and its chef Marianne work so well with us. We do not always have shoulder available all the time, in fact we have to wait until the supply in our farm store is low enough so we can process the rest of the hog (sans shoulder) for individual cuts to go in the store. Good stuff like bacon and chops.

Marianne always  orders when we have it available and ALWAYS makes wonderful comments about our fat cap. As a mature sized woman, it is a real treat to have someone speak well of my fat cap. I cherish those pats on the (fat) back.

I am also grateful for the free advertising she gives us and the other farms she supports.  FRESH healthy food is important to her. So fun to see our farm name in the middle of her "Our Awesome Farms" board in her restaurant, in Neon (chalk) none the less.

With 9 whole minutes left on the parking meter, and we never waste those minutes, we walked into my favorite thrift shop, The Brown Elephant. If you like junk and retro and rehab and recycle and just stuff, you must visit this gem. Once an old Vaudeville theatre it is now in its 9th life selling treasures. Perhaps you are the mood for some lamps

That pair of pink ceramic ones (lower right) calls to me in a Marilyn Monroe sort of throatiness. You too, huh ? I love the front stage part of The Brown Elephant. Can you not see Jimmy Durante and his big banana
twirling his cane ? If you do not know Jimmy then just leave this blog right now you big baby. Speaking of fresh fruit, I forgot to thank Cassie Green at Green Grocer for her order today.

http://www.greengrocerchicago.com/  The only grocery we choose to sell to in Chicago and YES, smarty pants (I learned that term from MBJ) we have had other groceries ask us to supply them. But we only have so much meat so we pick and choose who we will serve just like they pick and choose who they buy from. America, gotta love her.

OK, now all you folks who did not know the Snoz...come back. I need all the followers I can get. In addition to the well lit area at The Brown Elephant, they also have books

And of course, a few bags...(That remark was uncalled for. It was acutely accurate but uncalled for.)

On the way home we stopped in my old neighborhood, Ravenswood, at my favorite Irish Pub (in the US) and had a pint and a Sprite ,which we washed down with some fish and chips.
http://www.oshaughnessychicago.com/    

A grand day all together.

Foodie Patootie

I was a foodie loooong before the term was popular. I of course blame everyone but myself. Lets start with the dad. Times were tough, money was almost non-existent. So bedtime snacks were often hi-carb, hi-fat. Dad's best culinary feat was the white bread trick. He'd take the entire loaf, toast it ( or sometimes broil it in the oven if the toaster was broken, which meant the top of the bread was near black and the bottom was warm and mushy ) and smear it with whatever fake butter product was available. If it were payday, we'd get that loaf served to us with a jar of generic peanut butter layered on top. Oh baby, oh baby. He'd bring that loaf o' lard into the living room on one big red and orange flowered melamine plate . We'd fight tooth and tail for that Wonderless bread because if you took more than your share your butt would surely get kicked.

Dear old mom played no second fiddle to the king of grub. On her good days she could whip up a HUGE pan of mac and cheese made with all the leftover cheese pieces she could scrape out of the crisper drawer, which by the way, kept absolutely nothing "crisp." She knew how to slosh together American with Cheddar with Swiss with a packet of powdered Kraft cheese (just add milk or in moms case, 1/2 milk, 1/2 water) eons before Paula Deen made it chic.No one could stretch a meal and still maintain its comfort status like my folks.

Now fast forward 40 years to the Spence Farm Foundation Harvest Feast held this past Sunday in rural Fairbury Illinois. Dozens of chefs, local farmers, volunteers, board members and even a few limo low riders traveled near and far to prepare fresh locally grown produce and meat into dishes that even Don and Dusty, the Plain Janes of  "Lets make a Meal," would have savored. Two chefs, Jared Van Camp from Old Town Social , Chicago, and Manny Martinez from Destihl in Bloomington, split one of our Red Wattle hogs in half  (a la King Solomon) and made completely different dishes. From Jareds camp came smoked pork loin, pork belly pastrami, bratwurst and franks with housemade sauerkraut. And in Manny's corner, the Wattle was roasted in this huge wooden box for hours and hours and served with chimichurri sauce, pickled red onion and spice roasted marzen poached pears. Yet another chef, Aric Miech of Mindy's Hot Chocolate, Chicago, did the honor of preparing some of our beef brisket by smoking it over apple wood and then serving it with apples and black pepper on a whole wheat baquette. Man, I just got a serious case of the giggles imagining my dad saying "baquette". I just know he would have said "BAG IT".  I kill me. Aaaaaaanyway...

These three guys and their staff were just a small part of the group of skilled chefs, who managed to prepared dishes that not only tasted great but looked as beautiful as this

Sweet potato and leeks roasted on fragrant hay with black olive cake, molasses and pear

Keith and I ate until ...well we never did stop eating. Jared sent us home with a LARGE bag of sausages, brats and frankfurters which we ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner the next day. At the end of the evening an auction was held to benefit all the projects the Spence Farm Foundation carries forth each year, such as teaching the art, history and practice of sustainable small family farming across our country. We went home filled with tremendous gratitude for the Spence Farm Foundation who helped us and so many other farmers in so many ways. We were even more grateful for the bounty of food, friends and fun that God has granted us and so many others in our neck of the plains.

Yeah, My name is Donna and I'm a foodie.

Father of Invention

I am a selfish blogger. On our farm "me" stands for Myself Entirely because that is usually who I talk about when I get in front of the keyboard. But not today. Today I talk of Keith.

Keith Parrish is my husband and partner on the farm. Together we have raised four children, and hundreds of animals, often using the same techniques for both. We have learned that what is good for the goose often applies to the out of control teenager but I digress.

Keith can make most anything out of most anything. ( Really, take ME  for example. Once a bra-burning -man-hating-hemp-dressed-unshaven-feminist , I married Keith and evolved in the logically thinking conservative I am today. But again I digress ) Most recently he created this milk fountain for our market hogs.  I wish he would have thought of this when all four kids were still living at home. Would've have saved a lot of plate washing. Anyway...when we decided to raise hogs year round we budgeted for larger DRY grain feeders. We did not plan for ways to feed extra milk from our dairy. In the past, with just a few hogs, we would just hand carry buckets of milk to the hungry hog snouts. Now, with nearly 50 head of hogs to feed we needed something more efficient and SAFER. 50 hogs running into your legs looking for milk was getting a little hairy.

So here it is. The Milk-O-Matic or MOM is you'd prefer. A nice little substitute for the real thing.

The big white barrels hold the leftover milk from our dairy, that which has not been sold to our milk customers. The barrels are old soap barrels we got FREE  from The Corner Hardware Store in Chatsworth, Illinois. Keith fitted them at the bottom with $8 valves to allow the milk to flow out of the barrels. The barrels are supported by a hard plastic pallet which allows Keith to move the barrels from the milk house to the pig pasture with the forks on our Kubota tractor.

When Keith opens the valve on the spigot and the deliciously rich  milk comes pouring out , the pigs turn into growling, snarling, beasts of carnal desire. Like me when presented with a big plate of sizzling bacon. Ironic, no? Even more ironic, the trough is made from a PVC sewer pipe, 14 feet long with a 10 inch diameter, cut in half lengthwise. Yes, it was a clean, unused sewer pipe purchased from Kafer Tiling in Fairbury, Illinois for $120.

The trough is stabalized and blocked  at the ends with scrap iron and wood from Keiths "inventory".

The pipe width is perfect for many snouts to get their fair share of certified organic raw milk from 100% grass fed cows on pasture. Every day we get thank you cards from these little piggies. Some write better than others but all are special to us.

Some pigs get far enough into the trough to get little milk facials, making their skin that much softer and sweeter for our chefs (like Jared Van Camp of Old Town Social in Chicago) who love to make tasty dishes like Porchetta di Testa from the pigs head   . See how he does it at    http://www.somepig1.com/sta

Farming.  Everyday an adventure.

Four chefs and a side of beef

Now THAT would be a great title for a new book. Mystery ? Horror ? Romance ? Too creepy. Cookbook ? Too predictable. Sci-fi ? Maybe.

For now four chefs and a side of beef is exactly what it says. Look to the left and you will see the beef, to the right is our hog. Well, it was our hog . Now it belongs to Jared Van Camp and Yoni Levi at Old Town Social to be turned into something truly tasty.  .www.oldtownsocial.com  Jared is on the far right and Yoni is next to him. Then you have Ray , then Sam. Or was it Sam then Ray ? Sorry guys. My Aricept had not yet kicked in when we met you at the crack of noon. But I do remember how sharp you 4 looked in your black and whites.

Twas a cold cold day for deliveries in Chicago  but the sun was out and the traffic was good. My morning started at 4:30. I woke, splashed some coffee down my throat, (ow and OW !) then picked up youngest son Kyle in Fairbury. He traveled with me to the Bittners Eureka Locker 60 miles away to help load the 400 plus pounds of beef. Half for us and half for Jared. This is the first beef we've processed at Eureka and they were grrreat ! I'm sure we'll use them again in the future.Then we back tracked to Chenoa to pick up the hog. Since the freezer was already full of beef we wrapped the hog very nicely in a brand new tarp tied with a pretty little rope bow. Kinda like a big bacon bouquet..Onto Fairbury again where I pushed Kyle out of the truck with our share of the beef and chore instructions back at the farm. I then met Keith in Forrest and we headed up Route 47 to the big city.

Halfway up Ashland Ave., a cop, who was traveling to the left of me, suddenly swooped in behind me. I suspected he noticed the nicely wrapped body bag in the back of the truck "Here we go"  I thought. I looked for his flashing lights. Never happened. Guess I finally reached the age where I and my actions no longer look suspicious. Probably that ridiculous cow brooch I was wearing on my lapel. It made me a little sad.